WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
-
-
I was eating cherries out of a jar when Denis Johnson died, my fingers sticky with the slime. Their red syrup coating my teeth, I could feel a cavity forming…
-
“Where ya going buckaroo?” Casey said, taking off his headphones and tossing them on to the desk. I shrugged. “Out, I think.” “I thought you said you were exhausted?” “I…
-
April 2015 When I was a child never thought I would become a part of a junkie’s dream, where real clouds are research chemical and methamphetamine smoke, where needles…
-
1. Origins and distributions We hear birds at night. I imagine they are cardinals but Lou argues for sparrows. We know for sure they aren’t supposed to be here. But…
-
My hands are dry, creeks of blood cracking open. A pink fury. I wash and wash and hope. * * * The first week of COVID-19 quarantine, I accidentally cancel…
-
Creative Nonfiction / EssayOn Instagram I’m Not My Boyfriend’s Girlfriend: 5 Notes on the Spectator & Being Dead
Text Message Exchange on December 20th: Alexandra: I think I found an actual photo of Finn cheating on you in June. Maya follows Finn on Instagram, it was not hard…
-
An owl lives in the sweet gum, and tonight it has flown to our rooftop. Its calls float down to me—low and hollow—like curls of carrot peels around a bowl.…
-
WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
-
Image Credit: Patrick Moreau Regina Spektor lyrics from the song “Bon idée” in SONGS. In my basement bedroom in my semi-rural, semi-arid hometown, I lie in bed all…
-
Freedom. A Blue Jay flew in circles above the birdbath we had in our backyard the day my mother left. She left one cage only to walk into another. She…
-
I don’t like having sex in the dark, but tonight is different. I don’t want my body to be scrutinised. I seek comfort in the absence of light. I usually enjoy…
-
“Don’t call it a comeback,” raps LL Cool J. This summer the “Dining with a Cursed Bloodline,” column ended like a Disney Classic Movie. Marriage. Happily Ever After. Roll credits.…
-
When I was ten, and my sister, Eunice, was eleven, we made a suicide pact. With a rusty hacksaw we snitched from my father’s workbench; we huddled on the wooden…
Newer Posts